Almost
by Akua
Summary: In another life, this could have been them; a chance just missed. But John and Sherlock became flatmates, and Jane Bingum died. (A rambling of similarity, a missed chance and almosts.)


_In this life, it went like this—_

It was the rush that was truly the downfall for them. Sherlock and John were just meant for each other. Their weaknesses were no longer chinks in their armors when they were together. They were brothers in arms and the hounds of justice. Even with Sherlock's brisk, demanding and fairly horrid manners there were still those who grew to care. And John—cuddly jumpers that hid his steel insides, which in turn protected the heart big enough to sustain two.

They had met like this. John; fresh from warm and pain and excitement and a reason to live. Sherlock; struggling with his own genius, his boredom and from the inability of everyone around him to just listen to what he said! But one day, John met a former classmate. And he opened the door. And there stood Sherlock Holmes, a man so alien and different that it wasn't obvious until after the fact that the only thing worth living for would be for something that John had never had to care about before.

It took less than 48 hours before they were best mates for life. It took a week before John found it impossible to imagine life without his absolute git of a flatmate. It took a month for Sherlock to know that John wouldn't turn away from him, wouldn't scorn and hurt and leave another hole inside of his being.

Sherlock Holmes thought he didn't have a heart. He claimed it was true on a regular basis. But that wasn't true. John Watson had enough heart for the both of them. Just like how Sherlock had enough genius for the both of them. Put them together and they were practically a whole person once more—they had been whole people on their own, once.

But Sherlock had been ripped apart by his own genius. Destroyed from the inside.

And John had been shot to pieces. Destroyed by the outside.

But together they could be a whole person.

Unfortunately they were caught within a spider's web. And the fall destroyed more than a few hearts.

It happened like this—Sherlock perched on the cliff of his genius, suicide note in hand and tears in his eyes. John, at the bottom of the gorge that no longer had water. The sun in his eyes and Sherlock in his head.

This was not a missed chance.

This was sabotage.

_In another life, this could have been them._

Jane Bingum was one of the most hard working workers at her law firm. She was a terror in the court. Straight backed and intellectual to a terrifying degree. She was not an Ice Queen, and she couldn't take that title. Jane loved her coworkers. She loved her job. She had her boyfriends (although maybe something inside of her was crooked to some strange angle. She was never able to keep a boyfriend long—not after her husband had hurt her so) and her friends and her rival and her boss.

She brought justice down through the legal system. Jane Bingum was a legend just beginning to flourish.

Jane had a good life—but something was missing. Her parents were ruined, broken things and she couldn't find it within her to look at them now. Jane had no friends out of the office. And her affairs with men were often short, brief and bitter. Even Teri Lee bounced from close confident to strict assistant.

Jane Bingum could not make connections. She was only one half of a whole, after all.

Stacy Barrett was floundering. She knew that everyone saw her as some brainless air head (and she often feared that to be true) and it hurt. Stacy was drowning under papers and red ink. 'PASSED DUE' might as well be permanently tattooed to her forehead. She couldn't breath. She didn't dare try.

Stacy was only steps away from her career. The tip of the iceberg. The edge of the cliff. And she wasn't sure she should be jumping in to the waters below or not.

What if being an Actress wasn't for her? What if she was no good? Or not good enough?

Her hesitations stopped the final plunge—and there was no one to give her the final push.

It might have happened like this—with Grayson Kent newly joining the law firm Harrison and Parker. The party held at his new office would of course had brought Grayson's girlfriend and her best friend. And Stacy, having never been to a law firm before might have wandered. She might have found the best corner office of the building, looked inside and seen the hideously placed pillows and went in to fix them.

And Jane Bingum might have entered and seen a potential new client.

They might have talked.

They might have become a whole person together. Because Stacy was smart. She was brilliant in her own fashion. Stacy could research and go undercover and be the final push that Jane Bingum might have needed to go forward in to greatness. And Stacy could see something for her life other than being pretty. Of being able to smile and cry on command. She might have seriously looked to Law as a career, had they met. Or maybe he might have thought to become a temp at the firm.

Because together they could have been brilliant. They could have been partners in the search for justice.

But it didn't happen like that.

Jane Bingum was shot one day in the office after a fateful trip—and she never woke up again.

Deb Dobkins pressed the 'return' button.

Jane's intellect still lives—but the lines to a great future would be permanently severed. And Stacy corkscrewed down in to the depths of clueless wandering once more. Forever following in the steps of her equally clueless friend. They had a comfortable relationship after all and no reason to change it. It survived even death.

But it could have been amazing. They could have become two flames that towered higher when they were together than when they were apart.

If another life, this could have been Sherlock and John once again.

But it didn't happen.

Jane Bingum was dead—even if no one but two knew of it.

One fire smothered. The other to never be the same again.

In another life, that could have been them. A missed chance.

But in this life, that chance had not been missed. And John opened the door to find the other half of him—long dead—on the other side. Their rejoining was memorable.

Sherlock had never had a broken nose before.

* * *

_A/N: So, update on me. I had surgery on my leg to remove some skin (my family has a history of melanoma so the doctors were super cautious. It's all clear though, just some atypical cells that are officially preemptively removed). I got stitches for the first time in my life, so I've been recovering from that. I visited a sister in New Mexico and the heat almost killed me (I had never had heat caused sickness before). And I've been reevaluating my life once more. Oh, and I had a significant other for a few weeks and then we broke up over religious differences. SO... that is probably why there hasn't been any updates anywhere else that actually mattered. And then I created this abomination while watching four and a half seasons of Drop Dead Diva. I will never do this again, and I don't know why my brain hijacked me for this. Whoever reads this, I hope it wasn't too much of an eyesore. I'll be updating Stopwatch ASAP (the next chapter is half done, so I'll probably update in a day or two...). Thank you and good night!_


End file.
